The Dru and Harmony Ficlets
by LinneArthur
Summary: A fantasy of Dru and Harmony together, like the 3 Stooges only one less. ME owns all, I own nothing and only play.
1. A Little Help with the Thinking

Part 1: A Little Help with the Thinking  
  
Harmony twirled around, giggling, her blood red lipstick and nail polish matching the color of the fat bow tying off her French braid. Drusilla tried very hard to be distracted by the singing fairies in her head, but couldn't help noticing the cute pink and silver glitter that Harm had added to lips, nails and bow.  
  
While Harm prattled on about going out to look for Mexican food – as if it required searching in Mexico City – memories of Daddy, her Darling Boy and Grandmum flickered through Dru's mind. With a sigh, she put them aside. Both Daddy and her lovely William were lost to her, seduced away by a tiny blonde with darts in her eyes. Grandmum had vanished while Dru was in Sunnydale, leaving Dru to drift untethered in the world. All those mysterious little details someone else had always taken care of had harried Dru, refusing to be killed away.  
  
Then Harmony had floundered into Dru's path, drunk from feeding in low rent bars and mistaking Drusilla for a tour guide. After recalling herself to the blonde with a sharp slap, and enduring Harm's sodden commiseration over what bastards men were, it occurred to Dru that Harmony was a fitting companion to take Spike's place in fending off the demands of reality for Dru.  
  
It really did seem like a good idea at the time – before the high school cheers after kills, before the stick-on unicorn tattoos, before the sparkly glitter in nearly everything Harm wore. Glitter that often laughed at Dru, making her suspect it knew things she didn't.  
  
Now Dru watched as Harmony tried to untangle a cat o' nine tails, managing to get her fingers knotted into it and working herself into a pet. "Stupid tail-y, whippy thing!", Harm sulked after she'd freed her fingers by shredding Drusilla's favorite implement of erotic punishment with her fangs. "It's made my fingers all red and I don't even have hand cream for them! Charlize Theron has hand cream!"  
  
There was a still, shocked moment as Drusilla realized, from the depths of her insanity, that she was the brains of the outfit. 


	2. Dear Diary

Part 2: Dear Diary  
  
Dear Diary: Dorkus is, like, the worst roommate EVER! Yesterday I was wearing this killer outfit that I'd killed three whole clerks for and when I showed it off to her, she makes this weird remark comparing my vamp-on- the-go look to lollipops and snails. I don't even know what that means! I think she might be more than just eccentric.  
  
Dear Diary: How did Spike stand this? Why did Spike stand this? I don't understand how he could have loved her, it isn't like Dru provides a nurturing, supportive environment, unless . . . it was a spell!!! That's it! Her mind's so twisty, she can twist other people's minds too if she tries hard. Poor Blondie Bear, tricked into thinking he loved a loon for like, lots of years, when his real love is me! I know Spike truly loves me 'cause he never actually told me to leave – very often – and whenever I saw him I got this all-over tingly need to be super super nice to him. If that's not love, then I don't know what is.  
  
Dear Diary: Being dead is so blowful, so sucky. I can't even see myself in the mirror and I tried 7 times this evening! I have to wait for everybody else to tell me how good I look and they're so slow! Don't even ask about Dorkus, I finally learned not to go there for opinions about . . . well, anything. My hair does not look like spiders are spinning shrouds for worms!  
  
Dear Diary: Oh. My. God. This has been the worst night of my death! The first thing this evening, before I even had a chance to snack on someone, Miss Queen of the Damned sent me out with a bagful of money to bribe Mexico City's main crime lord guy. Apparently Spike did this all the time and now I'm supposed be talky guy. But she sends me out there with an address that's all in a foreign language and I got turned around and it's not my fault I accidentally gave all the money to the crime lord guy's biggest rival! It wasn't like I knew I was talking to the rival guy when I offered Dorkus and me feeding on the rival's flunkies – I was trying to sweeten the deal! Now there's like this major war going on in the underworld and Dru and I had to run on the lam.  
  
Dear Diary: Well, Dru hasn't spoken to me (that's a blessing!) since we went into hiding in some creepy old monastery with a bunch of freaky monk friends of hers. I'm not sure about these monks, I don't think real Episcopalians sacrifice this many goats. 


	3. Not Charlize Theron

Part 3: Not Charlize Theron  
  
Drusilla had a lot of nerve, demanding that Harmony service her bizarre needs. Harm had promptly refused, with a pointed "ew" and the information that Dru didn't own her. That was that, and when Dru slapped the chains into Harm's hands with a brief comment that she did own all the money Harmony had a good mind to chain Dru's bare ass to the wall so tight it pinched, but Dru would have enjoyed that, so Harm left the shackles loose. Leaving the smug brunette hanging there, Harmony stormed off to suit up.  
  
Dru watched the blonde sashay back into the room and immediately had misgivings. From somewhere Harmony had stolen a leather domme outfit that was mostly straps. While her cleft was covered by crisscrossing leather, Harmony's buttocks were left on proud display, as were her breasts, which were shoved up and forward like two mounds of mashed potatoes about to go on the attack. She'd found a bright pink lipstick to adorn both her mouth and nipples.  
  
Dru closed her eyes – she'd had hallucinations milder than this. She called up the image of her tiny, doll-like Grandmum, who'd thrashed Dru's buttocks pink on many a night. Mmmmm, Grandmummy, Dru thought happily. They were both blonde, she thought, maybe if I tried putting Darla's face on Harmony's body? It was better than nothing. Opening her eyes, she prepared her face to smile encouragingly at Harm, only to see it wasn't necessary.  
  
Harmony's back was to Drusilla as she dragged a large torture-device filled chest across the stone floor of the monastery, leaving scuffmarks behind on the ancient stones . . . large scuffmarks. Well, that shouldn't be too much of a problem, Dru considered, I can kill the monks who complain.  
  
Finished with the task, Harmony selected a riding crop and bounced over to Dru, her cheerfully decorated breasts wobbling on their leather perch. Dru was vaguely startled to feel her fangs descend, ready to take little nips out of her vacuous companion's fat, bouncy breasts. Dru licked the fangs, wishing Harmony just a little closer.  
  
Even more blank-faced than usual, Harm began ambling over to Drusilla, absently slapping the crop against her palm. "Let me see what you can do, little girl", Dru cooed. Harmony held out crop but did nothing more. Dru sighed. Spike had always been so quick anticipating her desires, but this creature would obviously need coaching.  
  
Dru ran her face delicately across the crop, and nuzzled Harm's inert hand before lashing sideways to sink her fangs into a full curve of breast, tugging at it roughly as she sucked the other vampire's blood. Slowly, Harm's expression began to clear to its usual level of dimness. "Hey," she said, "Hey! HEY!" She slashed Dru's neck with the crop and, startled by the sudden activity, Drusilla released the juicy globe.  
  
Harm moved away, scowling. "You promised no skin-type touching! Just looking and whip-touching and feeling your disgusting pleasures! Now I've got lipstick on me – girl's lipstick!" Licking her thumb, Harmony tried pointlessly to rub smeared dark red lipstick off her breast.  
  
"This isn't going to work," Harm thought desperately about Drusilla's demands, "I can't do this and if I don't do it Dorkus is going to turn me out to fend for myself and I'm not good at that!" She glanced nervously over at Drusilla, hanging naked in shackles, vamped out and wanting more.  
  
"Maybe if I imagine she's Spike?" Harmony thought hopefully. She'd taken more than a few love bites out of Blondie Bear and that might be considered S/M, but hope died as she eyed Dru. Harmony's powers of imagination didn't extend that far.  
  
If only Dru were Charlize Theron! Harmony wouldn't even have to pretend she were Spike then, she'd always thought Charlize really really cute. Wouldn't help with the whips and chains tho, that was just so . . . ick. "I bet Charlize never had to do sick things for money," Harmony pouted, "unless it was relevant to the plot."  
  
A 20-watt light bulb went on over Harmony's head and miraculously continued flickering instead of sputtering out immediately. She didn't have to pretend Dorkus was Charlize Theron to get through this, she only had to pretend that she was Charlize Theron! An actress could do anything, anything at all, because it wasn't real! Harmony pulled herself up to her full height, smiled with unaccustomed dominance, and walked deliberately back to Drusilla, snapping the crop smartly against her leather boot the whole way.  
  
Many hours later, as Harmony counted out the "good girl" money she'd been given, a well satisfied Drusilla purred in contentment as attentive monks massaged healing ointments into her still wounded flesh. Harmony might not be Darla, but she'd do, she'd do. 


End file.
